


My Impossible, Improbable, Incredible Adventure with Sherlock Holmes

by Neptune_Centari



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neptune_Centari/pseuds/Neptune_Centari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope Matthews had had a long day and just wanted to get home and relax. She had no idea that she was about to go on the adventure of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my very first fanfic! I do hope it's an enjoyable read! I would like to say thank you to my beta readers and a special thank you to Sammie and Emmy! Without you ladies this story literally would not have happened! *hugs*

It had been a long day. Hope Matthews was exhausted. One of the local schools had had a field trip to the Library where she worked, and she had been assigned to assist them throughout the day. She had spent all day running back and forth, climbing up and down ladders, pulling this book and that book, all for the sake of the kid’s projects. Then she was left with six trollies full of books to be returned to their rightful places. Though tired, Hope was used to it. She had worked for The New York Public Library for the past ten years.

She climbed the steps leading up to her apartment building, shifting the heavy bag she carried full of - books - what else - into her other arm so she could unlock the front door. She walked down the corridor and to the small elevator at the back. Normally she would take the stairs, but it had been a long day and her feet were killing her.

She pressed the ‘up’ button and waited.

_Come on._ She silently begged the elevator.

All she wanted to do was get inside her apartment, pour a glass of wine, and put her nose into one of the many books she had in her bag until she drifted off.

 A few moments later she heard the ‘ding’, the elevator doors opened and she stepped in. She dropped her bag at her side, giving her already over-used arm a well-deserved rest and pressed the number ‘6’. The soft, tinny music immediately started to play. Hope tapped her foot impatiently and in a movement long since automated she reached up to her neck and thumbed her Grandmother’s necklace.

It was a simple necklace, nothing lavish. Two small diamond shaped rubies hung one on top of the other from a thin gold chain. An heirloom passed down in her family for many, many generations.

After what felt like an eternity the elevator ‘dinged’ and the doors slid open.

“Hope! My dear child!”

Hope groaned inwardly at the elderly woman standing halfway in the hallway and halfway in her door to her apartment.

“Hello, Mrs. Harper.” She gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s not that she didn’t like Mrs. Harper, on the contrary, she liked her very much, but she was exhausted and knew Mrs. Harper was a talker.

“I thought I heard the elevator rattling around.” Mrs. Harper beamed at Hope. “I thought perhaps it was Rex coming back up. He came by to see me a bit ago and I sent him to the corner store for some milk. You should come in, have some tea, I’m sure he’ll be back any moment.” She moved out of the doorway and gestured for Hope to enter.

“Thank you, Mrs. Harper, but I really can’t tonight. I had a very long day at the library and just want to sleep.”

Mrs. Harper gave her an appraising look. “You work too hard, dear. You should really find yourself a nice man, settle down. You know my Rexie-“ She was cut off by the elevator dinging and sliding open.

Rex Harper, a man in his early thirties, around six foot, tidy brown hair, green eyes behind a pair of stylish glasses, and a body that says ‘I go to the gym three times a week’ stepped out of the elevator with a brown bag in his arms. Upon seeing the ladies in the hallway he smiled.

“Hello Hope. How are you?” His smile never left his face as he walked further down the hall and stopped beside them.

As if the question was directed to her instead of Hope, Mrs. Harper chirped up. “She was just about to come inside and have a nice cup of tea with us.” She smiled warmly at her son.

Rex looked Hope over, taking in her slightly disheveled look and the large, heavy bag clearly weighing down her right arm.

“I think Hope probably just wants to get inside and get some rest, Mom.” He handed the brown bag to his mother who turned around to take it inside.

As soon as Mrs. Harper’s back was turned, Hope gave Rex a meaningful stare and mouthed ‘ _thank you’._

“If you’re sure, dear.” Mrs. Harper called over her shoulder.

Rex chuckled, looking at his mother’s retreating figure with fondness and then turning to face Hope. “Can I help you with that bag?”

“Oh. Sure. That would be very nice.” Hope handed him the bag and he took it. “Thank you.”

Rex smiled at her again and followed her two more doors down to Hope’s apartment.

“How’s the library treating you?” He asked politely as Hope slid her key into the lock.

“It’s fine, just a long day.” She turned the key and pushed open the door. She walked inside, Rex close behind her. “You can set the bag down right there.” She pointed beside the table directly on the inside of the door. “How are things going at the museum?”

Rex was a curator at The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Rex placed the bag down and straightened up again before answering her. “Great, actually. We got a new shipment in last night. Lots of ancient Greek artifacts, some of the oldest in the world. I’ll be spending the next few days cataloging them and placing them on display.”

“That sounds amazing.” Hope smiled at him.

“Yeah, you should come down and take a look once everything is set up. I’ll get you a free pass.” He was already turning towards the door.

“That sounds great. I look forward to it.” She followed him back to the threshold. “Sorry I can’t visit with you guys tonight.”

Rex turned back around and gave her an award-winning smile. “No worries. I understand the desire to just kick back and relax. Sorry about my mother.”

Hope waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t apologize. I love your mother.”

Rex exited her apartment. “Get some rest.” He told her as he made his way back toward his mother’s apartment.

“I will.” She responded and then shut the door. She turned around and leaned her back against it letting out a long sigh.

She kicked off her shoes as she began to unbutton her top. Her feet almost purred at being released from her shoes. She shed her top, allowing it to drop to the floor and moved toward her small kitchen. She opened a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of wine and a glass. She popped the top and began to pour the dark red liquid into the glass. It had been a long day. She didn’t stop pouring once the glass filled to her usual level. It had been a _very_ long day. She practically filled the glass to the top.

**

About an hour later Hope was spread out across her couch with a book in her lap, the wine glass, almost empty, on the coffee table beside her. She stopped reading and closed the book once the words on the page had begun to shift in and out of focus. She placed the book on the coffee table and with great effort pulled herself up off the couch. As she walked to her bedroom she switched off the living room lamp.

No sooner had she reached her bedroom door than she was startled by a noise from behind her. She turned back around, a little too quickly, the exhaustion and unusually large amount of wine causing her to sway slightly. She regained her balance and switched the living room lamp back on. Her eyes scanned the living room. Nothing seemed out of place. About to shrug it off, she reached for the lamp again when suddenly there was a loud _CRACK_! Her living room was filled with a bright white light.

She raised her hand to shield her eyes but before she even got her hand halfway to her face the light was gone. Hope gave a startled yell at the two men suddenly standing in her living room.

They both turned to look at her, clearly very confused.

Hope could not believe her eyes. If it had been actually possible, Hope’s jaw would have been on the floor.

Her brain barely had time to think _‘is that…?’_ When one of the men took a step toward her and spoke. “Where is he? Are you working with him?” His British accent was very apparent.

Hope blinked, once, twice, three times, but the men still stood there, solid, real, staring at her waiting for a response. Her knees became weak, everything was suddenly spinning. Her focus blurred, the world tilted and she began to fall. She suddenly found herself being caught before she hit the ground and stared into the man’s blurry, yet clearly, concerned face. “How…?” Was all she was able to get out before the darkness claimed her.


	2. Chapter 2

Hope could hear faint voices off in the distance. She slowly opened her eyes. She was lying in her bed covered by her blanket, with no knowledge of how she got there. She could tell by the street lights outside her window that it was still dark. She tried to sit up slowly but her head hurt badly. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the pain in her head to dissipate.

She heard voices again. They were coming from her living room.

Suddenly the memory of a bright white light and two men abruptly appearing in her living room came flooding back to her.

She sat up ignoring the protest of her head and quietly walked over to her bedroom door, trying to force her eyes to come into focus.

Upon being closer to the door she could definitely hear voices. She took in a deep breath to calm her shaking hands and as quietly as she could, opened her bedroom door.

From her angle she could see the back of one of the men. He was wearing a dark jacket and blue jeans and he had short blondish hair. He was talking very adamantly to the other man, even though Hope couldn’t see him. She could however make out what he was saying.

“I agree that we should get out of here soon, but I am not leaving that poor girl alone right now. We scared her half to death by just appearing out of thin air in her home. We should at least stick around long enough to make sure she is alright. She also might be able to answer a few questions for us.” He shifted and Hope could now see his profile.

Her memory flashed to earlier before she fainted. The white light and then two men standing there as if literally appearing from nowhere. She wasn’t sure due to her blurry vision and her head spinning but she could have sworn that the two men looked just like Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch in their full Sherlock television clothing.  

Now, seeing the man’s profile there was no doubt in her mind. That was definitely Martin Freeman dressed in his full John Watson clothing. She was now pretty sure that the other man, out of her line of sight currently, must in fact be Benedict Cumberbatch.

_What are they doing in my living room? How did they get here? Why are they dressed like their characters?_

“The longer we stay here,” the other man – _Benedict?_ \- started speaking out of Hope’s line of sight, “The further Moriarty is getting away from us.”

“Sherlock, we don’t even know where the hell we are!” _Martin?_ moved his arms widely around himself, gesturing to Hope’s apartment.

Hope heard _Benedict?_ sigh in frustration.

“Isn’t it obvious, John? Based off my examination of the streets outside I would say we are in the States. Plus, if you look here at this book, it clearly has New York Public Library stamped onto it. Ergo we are in New York City.”

“Great. Just great. How the hell did we get here?”

“I’m not sure… but I have other interesting news. My mobile isn’t working. It says ‘no service available.’”

_Martin?_ reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Odd. Mine says the same. We should figure out how to contact Mycroft as soon as possible. If we really are in New York, we are going to need to get back to London.”

_Moriarty. Sherlock. John. Mycroft._ Each name hit Hope like a tidal wave.

Not only were they dressed as their characters but they were _referring_ to each other as if they really _were_ their characters.

She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. This made absolutely no sense otherwise. _No more double wine for me,_ Hope thought.

At that moment _Martin?_ turned to face her bedroom door and spotted her eavesdropping.

Hope froze, locking eyes with him.

_It can’t be. It just can’t._

_Martin?_ smiled at her. “Hello.”

Suddenly he was obscured from view by _Benedict?_ with hisdark curly ‘Sherlock’ hair, blue scarf, purple shirt and long belstaff coat coming around the corner.

Hope’s breath caught in her chest. Her knees went weak.

_I’m dreaming. This isn’t real._

_Benedict?_ reached out a hand in a placating manor. “We are not going to hurt you.”

“Sherlock, get out of the way.” _Martin?_ huffed, pushing past him.

Hope grabbed the door for support, but found that her legs had turned to jelly and she began to slide down it.

“Oh, careful now!” _Martin?_ moved towards her and caught her by her waist. He steadied her on her feet and began to guide her out of the room. “Here, sit down on the sofa.” Hope, completely in shock, made no move to object and allowed herself to be guided to and sat upon her couch. Once sat, _Martin?_ let go of her and stepped back and away.

_Benedict?_ was pacing around impatiently behind _Martin?,_ his coat tails whipping this way and that.

“Right.” _Martin?_ started, giving Hope a reassuring smile. “How are you feeling?”

Hope just stared at him.

“As my partner stated before, we aren’t going to hurt you.” He gave her another reassuring smile.

“Could we possibly speed this up?” _Benedict?_ proclaimed from behind _Martin?,_ continuing to pace impatiently behind him.

_Martin?_ turned to look at him and frowned. “She’s in shock, give her a few moments.” He turned back to face Hope, leaning down and back onto his haunches making himself more level with her. “It’s alright. You’re safe. But do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

Hope’s mind finally started to kick into gear and she stared at the two men. “You want to ask _me_ a few questions? You two pop into my living room out of thin air,” she snapped her fingers “and you want _me_ to answer your questions? How about we start with what the hell two actors are doing in my living room and why you keep calling each other Sherlock and John?”

_Martin?_ looked taken aback.

_Benedict?_ stopped pacing at once.

“Actors?” They said in unison.

Hope rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Yes. Actors!” She brought her hands away from her face and looked at the two of them. _Benedict?_ was staring very intently into Hope’s face, as if she had said something very important, and _Martin?’s_ mouth was hanging open.

“We are not actors.” _Martin?_ began. “My name is John Watson and my partner over there,” he nodded in _Benedict?’s_ direction, “is Sherlock Holmes.”

Hope dropped her hands into her lap. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Do we look like we are laughing?” _Benedict?_ asked in a very serious tone from the other side of the room. Hope looked over to him and realized he had not taken his eyes off her. She felt transfixed on his eyes, as if some kind of magnet was holding her there.

For one wild moment she actually believed she was staring into the face of Sherlock Holmes and that he was reading her and deducing her just like he does in the show when he thinks someone is important to a case he is working on.

_That’s ridiculous!_ Her mind told her.

“I assure you,” _Martin?_ began, bringing Hope out of her mesmerized state and causing her to look at him. “We are not actors.”

“Yes you are.” She nodded her head emphatically. “You are Martin Freeman and he’s Benedict Cumberbatch.” She pointed at each of them respectively.

“Benedict Cumberbatch?” _Benedict?_ snorted from the corner of the room. Hope looked back to him, his serious, thoughtful expression gone and replaced with amusement. “What kind of name is Benedict Cumberbatch?”

“It’s _your_ name!” Hope snapped back at him.

Suddenly _Martin?’s_ hand was on her shoulder. “You are obviously very confused.”

“I’ll say.” _Benedict?_ interjected. “A name like Benedict Cumberbatch can only come from the mind of a very confused person.”

“Sherlock, you’re not helping.” _Martin?_ told him with a hint of heat.

“I am _not_ confused!” She rose up from the couch and walked around the coffee table and over to the shelf next to her television. It took her only a moment to find the right Blu-ray. “Here.” She held it out for _Martin?_ to take.

He looked at it, puzzled, but took it from her. He looked down at it and immediately the color drained from his face. “Sherlock,” he said, “You might want to see this.”

Hope watched in astonishment as _Benedict?_ swooped, yes _swooped_ , over to _Martin?_ and plucked the Blu-ray from his hands. He looked at it for a long moment and then looked up, his eyes darting side to side very quickly as if he was processing something. He held out the Blu-ray for _Martin?_ to take.

He turned back to Hope with a serious look upon his face and once again she felt as if she was being x-rayed. She wanted to look away but as before it was as if his eyes were a magnet. She felt exposed and she wasn’t even sure why. Just when she thought she couldn’t bare it any longer he spoke.

“Do you have a mobile… um Miss…?”

Hoped blinked bringing herself out of the trance. “H-Hope.” She stammered. “Hope Matthews. And yes, it’s in my bag.” She walked over and rummaged through her bag a moment, finally coming up with her cell in her hand. She handed it to him.

“Can this make international calls?” He asked but already his fingers were flying over the keys.

“Yes.” She answered as he put the phone to his ear.

There was a pause as both Hope and _Martin?_ watched him. After a moment he lowered the phone from his ear with a very confused expression on his face.

“Sherlock…?” _Martin?_ asked tentatively. “What is it?”

“That’s not possible.” He looked back down to the phone and entered more numbers.

After a few more moments he handed the phone back to Hope.

“Sherlock, what’s not possible?”

“I tried calling Mycroft, his office number and his personal number. It says the numbers don’t exist.”

“What?!” _Martin?_ exclaimed his eyes widening in disbelief. “How can that be?”

“I… I’m not sure.” He moved away from Hope and _Martin?_ walking towards the living room couch. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his hands under his chin in a steeple fashion.

It was an extremely Sherlock thing to do.

Hope threw her hands into the air. “You can’t be serious!” She began to move around the living room, gesturing wildly with her arms and hands. “You expect me to believe that you are the fictional characters John Watson and Sherlock Holmes? And that you just tried calling your brother from my phone?”

Upon her saying ‘your brother’ Sherlock once again penetrated her with his gaze. She immediately looked away, refusing to be pulled into his eyes again.

“Look,” _Martin?_ began, looking down at the Blu-ray in his hands. “I don’t know who the hell this Martin and Benedict are,” he looked back to Hope, “but tell me this - how would two actors, or anyone for that matter, just materialize in your flat’s living room? Shouldn’t that mean something?”

Hope placed her hands on her hips. “It’s an apartment, not a flat. And I don’t know!” She rounded on _Benedict?_. “If you’re _really_ Sherlock Holmes, _you_ should be able to tell _me._ ”

_Benedict?_ slowly lifted himself off the couch his face completely devoid of any emotion. “I’m not sure how we got here,” he began slowly, “but I am _very_ sure I am Sherlock Holmes.”

Hope snorted and folded her arms in front of herself. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

His face went from completely blank to downright smug as he moved around the coffee table to stand directly in front of her, gazing down slightly to look into her eyes. “You and your younger brother were born in the southern part of the States but moved north after your mother died when you both were very young. You were both raised by her mother, your grandmother. She gave you the necklace you currently wear around your neck. Your brother joined the army and was killed in action roughly five years ago. You’ve never been married and don’t currently have a boyfriend. You’ve been working as a librarian for around ten years. You take the bus or walk everywhere you need to go. Your favorite color is green and you’re fond of Chinese food.” He paused and took in a breath. “I could continue but your jaw is already nearly on the floor.” He finished and spun on his heel away from her strolling over to the living room window.

Hope promptly snapped her mouth shut and stared after him.

Beside her _Martin?_ had his hand over his mouth, stifling a chuckle.

“How… how do you know all that stuff?” Hope stammered.

He turned his head and looked over his shoulder at her with a bored expression on his face. “Because I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

Hope reached her hand up to her necklace and thumbed it while moving toward her couch to sit down. Her mind was spinning. She was absolutely sure that they were not close look-a-likes. She had seen the show, pictures, and interviews enough times to know that at the very, very least they _were_ Martin and Benedict. But Sherlock and John?

If they were Martin and Benedict, how on earth could Benedict have known all that stuff about her? Her mind spun, twisted, loopty-looped, but she couldn’t come up with one logical reason why Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch would magically appear in her living room claiming to be John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

But what if they _were_ telling the truth? Then she had Sherlock Holmes and John Watson _in her living room!_ Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. She had been a fan of the show since it first aired. She loved these characters, worshiped them even. She knew everything there was to know about both of them. How many people could actually say that their most beloved characters became real and stood in front of them? This could be an opportunity of a life time.

Of course, they could still be lying. Even if they were lying, as John (did I actually just call him John?) stated before, they _did_ appear _out of nowhere_ and that was worth figuring out.

She looked up and noticed _~~Martin?~~...John?_ had joined _~~Benedict?~~...Sherlock?_ over by the window and they were examining the Blu-ray while talking quietly to each other.

“I heard a loud cracking sound,” She began to explain, breaking the silence suddenly. They turned their focus on her. “Right before I saw a very bright white light. It was incredibly fast and then you two were just standing there.”

“We also saw a bright white light in the warehouse just before we got here.” _John?... alright  fine_ Johntold her crossing the living room and setting the Blu-ray down on the coffee table.

“Warehouse?” Hope echoed.

John looked over to _~~Sherlock?~~_ Sherlock and Sherlock gave him a nod.

“Yes. We were on a case, chasing a lead. It brought us to a warehouse down by the Thames.” He continued.

Sherlock once again took to pacing back and forth from the living room window to the small kitchen.

“We walked inside - it was dark, empty, as far as we could tell. Then suddenly the lights came on. To our surprise, standing up on a catwalk was the world’s most dangerous criminal mastermind, Jim Moriarty. Trust me when I say we were not expecting that. He was holding some sort of _staff_ -”

“The staff! Of course!” Sherlock exclaimed suddenly while he continued to pace.

John and Hope stared at him.

He waved his hand for John to continue.

John looked back to Hope. “I only got a quick look at it as he raised it above his head and then he… well he _slammed_ it onto the ground. There was a bright flash of white light and we suddenly found ourselves here. It happened so fast. He obviously transported us here somehow. I know that sounds impossible but…”

Sherlock interrupted him. “Once you rule out the impossible…”

“Whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” Hope finished for him causing him to stop dead and look at her with curiosity. She smiled at him. “You say that in the show.” He cocked his eyebrow at her as John began to speak.

“Yeah, about that…” He began, drawing their attention back to him. “You said we are fictional characters. What did you mean by that?”

Hope sighed. For better or for worse this was really happening. “I meant just that. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson and even James Moriarty are fictional characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle back in the eighteen-eighties. The Blu-ray you are holding is a modern television show about Sherlock and John done by the BBC. As you can see from the pictures on the cover, that’s you – well it’s the actors that play you because Sherlock Holmes and John Watson don’t exist. At least they didn’t before tonight.”

“It’s starting to make a little more sense now.” Sherlock spoke up beginning to pace once more.

“What part of _any_ of this makes sense?” John asked, giving him a completely bewildered look.

Sherlock stopped in front of John, looking into his eyes.

“Don’t you see, John? Our mobiles don’t work. Mycroft’s number doesn’t exist. I bet if I tried to use my bank card it wouldn’t work either. It must have been the staff that transported us, but Moriarty didn’t just send us to another part of the world. He sent us to a completely _different_ world altogether!”

“You mean… you mean like a parallel universe?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Sherlock exclaimed reaching down to pick up the Blu-ray from off the coffee table and looked at it. “In theory there are an infinite number of parallel universes.” He continued. “The bad news is that in _this_ universe we are fictional characters.” He looked back up to John. “Which means we are on our own. No money, no Mycroft, no Lestrade.”

“And the good news?” John asked him.

“The good news is there should be a staff here as well.” He finished, his eyes never leaving John’s and John wasn’t looking away.

Hope watched them stare deeply, yes _deeply_ into each other’s eyes, neither of them blinking, as if looking anywhere else would stop their hearts and render them dead.

_You have got to be kidding me. They are having_ eye sex _right in front of me!_

“Um.” Hope squeaked breaking the silence. They both finally blinked and moved away from each other. “So are you saying you guys are from another universe, transported here by a staff?”

“It would appear so.” Sherlock confirmed, walking into the tiny kitchen and placing the Blu-ray onto the table.

“But why did it transport you to New York – to my living room? Why not just drop you off in this world’s London? Or even a back alleyway? Why here?”

Sherlock turned to face her and quirked his eyebrow. “Those are very good questions, Hope.”

“And?” John asked after Sherlock didn’t continue.

“And I intend to find out the answers to them.”

John sighed. “Well, if the staff is here we have to find it. That seems like a good place to start.”

“I agree.” Sherlock nodded.

“Did you get a good look at it?” Hope asked them.

Sherlock looked at her indignantly. “Of course I did.”

Hope actually gave him a ‘well excuse me’ look before asking, “Well what did it look like? Can you maybe draw it?” She got up from the couch, walked over to her desk and pulled out a pencil and paper. She handed it to Sherlock.

He leaned over her small kitchen table and began to sketch out the staff. When he finished he showed it to Hope.

It looked more like a flying snake then a staff. The staff itself was a stiff snake, the top being its head and it had a set of wings protruding from either side of it.

“The snake part looked bronze and the wings looked gold.” Sherlock added while Hope studied the sketch.

She placed the paper onto the table next to the Blu-ray. “I’ve never seen a staff like this before.”

“Neither have I.” Sherlock said in an annoyed voice.

“We could try looking it up on the internet.” John offered.

“Good idea, let me just grab my laptop.” Hope moved back into the living room and opened her bag. “Shit. I must have left it at the library.” She gave them an apologetic look.

“Well let’s be off to the library then. We can use the computers there - it would be faster with three looking anyways.” Sherlock said making his way toward the door.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Hope moved to block his path.

Sherlock cocked his eyebrow at her again.

“First of all, it’s…” She glanced behind him at the clock on the far side of the wall, “A little after one a.m. The library is closed. And second, you can’t just go out walking the streets of New York.”

Sherlock gave her a quizzical look. “And why not? We walk the streets of London all the time.”

“And the alleyways, and the rooftops, and the sewers…” John said under his breath beside him.

Hope actually suppressed the urge to laugh and continued to explain. “It’s not that. If you remember, I said you guys look like Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“So?” Sherlock prompted impatiently.

Hope stared at him in disbelief for a moment but quickly reminded herself who she was talking to. “I don’t think you realize just how big the show is here. Martin and Benedict are two of the world’s biggest superstars right now. The show turned both of them into household names! If you go out there, especially dressed as you are, you are going to get mobbed! Even at one in the morning! And trust me when I say that would be ‘a bit _not_ good.’”

John stared at her for her choice of words, but Sherlock didn’t miss a beat. “I fail to see how any of that is relevant. We can avoid the main streets and the majority of the people.” He attempted to move forward again. Hope actually had to place her hands on his chest (her heart skipped a beat) to keep him from moving around her.

“You can’t take that risk, Sherlock!” She implored him, noting that she actually called him ‘Sherlock’ out loud for the first time. It felt surreal. “You _will_ get recognized! I guarantee it. You both have incredibly distinguishable faces so even hoodies and sunglasses aren’t a guarantee that you won’t be spotted. You have to consider how that might affect the real Martin and Ben, or even our universe for that matter!” She heaved in a breath.

Sherlock glared down at her ready to retort when John put his hand on his shoulder.

“She’s right, Sherlock.” John said calmly, causing Sherlock to whip around and glare at him instead.

“John…!” He tried.

John put his hand up to stop him. “This isn’t our universe, Sherlock. This isn’t home. We have to remember that. We shouldn’t risk this world anymore then we have to.”

Sherlock pouted as if John had just told him that he couldn’t have cake until he finished his peas and then whirled around to face Hope again. “So we are just supposed to sit here and do nothing?”

“Just until morning.” Hope nodded. “Then I can run to the library and grab my laptop.”

Sherlock let out a frustrated groan, gave John another glare and stalked off into the living room where he looked at the couch and _gracefully_ , yes gracefully, collapsed upon it. He closed his eyes and brought his hands up to his chin and placed them into their all too familiar prayer pose.

Hope watched him in amazement.

_Sherlock Holmes is in my living room. Sherlock Holmes is lying on my couch._

“He’ll be fine like that for hours.” John said bringing Hope out of her fangirl fantasies and causing her to look at him. He gave her a small smile. “I don’t suppose you have any tea? I could use a cup right now.”

Hope blinked. “Tea?” Her brain was far from any normal and boring thoughts such as tea, so the question took her by surprise. She shook her head as if it would somehow dislodge the images she was having about Sherlock. “Oh. Right. Tea.” She turned into the kitchen and began pulling open cabinets until she found the box she was looking for. “It’s not Earl Grey, sorry, I know how much you like that, but it’s tea.” She explained as she opened another cabinet to pull out a mug.

“How did you know I like Earl Grey?” He asked her.

“Don’t most English men like Earl Grey?” She asked him back as she grabbed a pot and began to fill it with water.

John smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. I thought perhaps you were going to say you knew it from the show.” He pulled out one of the chairs from the small table in the kitchen and sat down.

Hope placed the pot on the stove and turned it on. “Actually that’s never stated out right in the show, it was just an educated guess on my part.” She joined John at the table, sitting across from him. “The water should come to a boil soon.”

John looked at the Blu-ray still sitting on the table. “It’s strange seeing myself on the cover.” He started. “I’ve never even heard of these actors.”

Hope thought for a moment. “How about Andrew Scott? Mark Gatiss? Or Una Stubbs?”

John shook his head.

“Well what about Brad Pitt?”

John nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“Hmmm. That’s interesting.” Hope told him as the water began to bubble behind her. She got up from the chair and walked over to the stove, removing the pot from the eye.

“What is?” John prompted her.

Hope placed a teabag into the mug she had pulled out and began to pour the hot water into it. “It sounds like anyone in this universe who is involved in the show doesn’t exist in your universe.” She finished pouring the water, set the pot down, and moved toward John to hand him the mug.

He took it from her. “Thank you.”

Hope nodded. “Well they exist,” she corrected herself as she sat back down across from John. “But they are their characters. There is no Benedict Cumberbatch because he’s Sherlock Holmes. You follow me?”

John took a small sip of the hot tea before nodding his head up and down in the ‘yes’ gesture. Then he placed the mug down in front of himself, gave a small laugh and said “Actually, no.”

Hoped laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not sure I followed myself either.” She smiled at him.

John leaned forward over his mug and licked his lips. “So no boyfriend huh?” He asked her.

Hoped laughed loudly, “Three continents not good enough for you, Doctor Watson? You want to add parallel universes to the list?”

Over on the couch Sherlock actually chuckled.

John blushed slightly, but recovered quickly. “You keep surprising me with how much you know.”

Hope shrugged. “I’m a huge fan. What can I say?”

“And do I - I mean we - have lots of fans here?”

“Oh God yes!” Hope exclaimed. “You guys are legendary here! If you remember earlier I told you that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle created Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson back in the eighteen-eighties. The stories were a huge success back then. There have been numerous adaptations of the stories for over a hundred and thirty years. You would be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t recognize Sherlock’s name.”

John rolled his eyes. “It figures. We _would_ have to be sent to a universe where Sherlock is a bloody rock star! As if his ego needed any more of a boost.”

A loud ‘hey!’ came from the couch. Hope and John laughed.

“But you’re forgetting something very important, John.” Hope said after a moment.

“Hmmm? And what would that be?” He asked, bringing his mug to his mouth.

“You’re the one who made him into a rock-star.” She said simply.

He swallowed his tea and held up his mug. “My apologies.”

Hope laughed again and then sat back in her chair, her eyes shifting from John to the couch. “I can’t believe I am sitting at my kitchen table talking with John Watson while Sherlock Holmes is lying on my couch.” She beamed at them. “I feel like I am in a fan-fiction.”

John looked at her a little puzzled. “Fan-fiction?”

Hope blushed. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because all the fan-fiction she ever read concerning the two of them was Johnlock fan-fiction, or maybe it was because she was embarrassed to admit that she read fan-fiction at all when she had an entire library at her disposal.

“You don’t know what fan-fiction is?” She asked him.

John sat back in his chair a little. “Well I can assume from the words themselves that its fiction written by fans.” His face turned quizzical then. “Do you mean that people, fans of the show, write their own stories based off of the characters - based off of us?”

“Yes.” She nodded her head.

“What do they write about?” He asked, sounding intrigued.

Hope blushed again.

_You and Sherlock shagging all over London._ She thought to herself but said “Oh you know, you and Sherlock off on cases. Dashing here and there, getting into trouble, saving the day.” She waved her hand dramatically through the air.

John laughed. “Oh yes, that’s us. John and Sherlock saving the day.” His sarcasm was apparent, but light. “I wouldn’t think anyone would want to write or read about our lives.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t think you quite understand just how interesting you and Sherlock are to people.”

“Sherlock maybe, I can see that. But me?” He shook his head. “I’m boring. Plain, boring John.”

Hope looked at him with affection. “You are not boring John! You are an ex-army doctor with a heart of gold. You’re loyal to a fault, brave as a lion, and more patient then anyone I have ever met.” She paused for a moment and then added “John Watson is as synonymous with Sherlock Holmes as peanut butter is to jelly, or cookies are to milk.”

John licked his lips looking a little embarrassed at Hope’s praise of him.

“Don’t look like that.” She told him with a smile. “It’s all true. But even if it wasn’t, the simple fact that you are able to deal with Sherlock-“ Sherlock snorted from the couch- “on a daily basis is interesting enough in and of itself.” She gave John a warm, genuine smile. “You care. You care a lot. It’s one of the reasons why it hurt so much when Sherlock-“

She stopped herself dead. Behind John she saw Sherlock lift his head slightly.

She was going to say ‘when Sherlock faked his death’ but if Moriarty was the one that sent them here, then that meant that Sherlock and him had not yet had their final showdown on the roof of St. Bart’s, and Sherlock had not yet fallen. _Their universe must also be behind in time._ Why had this not occurred to her sooner?

“When Sherlock what?”

Hope blinked. John was looking at her, waiting for a response.

Hope gathered herself quickly. “When Sherlock said he didn’t have any friends. You know, at the pub in Baskerville.”

John held her gaze for a moment and then let out a long sigh. “God. You have no idea how strange it is to hear you say these things.” He breathed. “It’s as if you were there. I haven’t even posted the Baskerville case to my blog yet.” He finished, confirming Hope’s thought.

Hope watched John for a moment waiting for him to start putting the same two and two together.

“Wait…” He looked at her and cocked his eyebrow. “Are you seeing this show in real time…?”

“Long before they happen actually.” Sherlock said suddenly getting up from the couch and walking over to them in the kitchen. He looked down at Hope. “Almost three years before, in fact.”

John gaped at him. “ _How_ do you know that?”

Sherlock turned his gaze to him, but Hope beat him to the punch. “You saw the date on my phone.”

Sherlock gave her an approving smile. “Yes.”

“Three years?!” John spluttered.

“Not quite three.” Sherlock corrected him pulling his phone from his pocket. “Our mobiles say March fourteenth, two thousand and eleven. _Her mobile_ ,” he nodded his head towards Hope, “Says November seventeenth, two thousand and _thirteen_.”

John looked at Hope. “How many episodes are there?”

Hope thought fast. If John and Sherlock had just finished the Baskerville case then The Reichenbach Fall was a window into their future. Telling them about it would spark their interest, especially Sherlock’s. It was bad enough dealing with the unknown dangers of parallel universe hopping, let alone bringing time travel into the mix.

Besides, what benefit would it provide to tell them anyways?

As it stands - Moriarty dies, Sherlock and John do not. Sherlock takes out the rest of Moriarty’s goons, comes back and reunites with John. It’s a happy ending.

The choice seems simple.

Then why is she hesitating?

_John._

Is it really a happy ending when you know John will suffer through two years of nightmares, guilt trips, and depression over watching his best friend kill himself?

One of the reasons she is such a huge fan of the show is because of the characters John and Sherlock. They had always felt real to her, as if they were friends, family even. She loved both of them.

That’s why it hurt so much to witness the pain and anguish on John’s face as Sherlock fell - to watch him collapse, utterly broken, at Sherlock’s side - to listen to his heartbreaking speech at the cemetery.

It hurt. Badly.

Regardless of the love she felt for him - for both of them - always in the back of her head she knew they weren’t real. They were fictional characters.

Now she was faced with the reality that _this_ fictional character, _this_ John Watson sitting across from her is indeed very, _very_ real, and she _knows_ heis going to witness and go through absolute hell.

She could feel the ache twist its cold fingers around her heart and squeeze.

If you had the ability to change a friend’s future, would you do it? _Should_ you do it?

_I can’t._

As much as it might suck for John, it’s ultimately a happy ending - a _guaranteed_ happy ending. In her quest to save John from the pain she could inadvertently change something vital and veer their future completely off course, possibly resulting in one or both of their deaths.

_I can’t take that risk._

“Five.” She told them. “The Hounds of Baskerville was the last one.” She was looking at John when she said this, but in her peripheral vision she could see Sherlock staring at her. “I’m afraid you arrived a bit early for the next one,” She added, “it’s still a long ways off.”

John nodded his head. “Probably for the best. I’m not sure I _want_ to know the future.”

Hope, still aware of Sherlock’s gaze on her, but refusing to look at him, nodded her head in agreement with John.

John stifled a yawn. “Well I don’t know about the two of you, but I think my brain has received enough information for now and needs a rest. Might I suggest we get a few hours before dawn?”

Hope felt Sherlock’s gaze finally fall from her as he looked at John with disgust. “How can you possibly sleep?”

“Apparently parallel universe crossing gives me jet lag.” He stood up from the kitchen chair. “Do you have a spare pillow, Hope? I’ll crash on the floor in the living room. Sherlock can take the couch.”

“Absolutely.” Hope got up and walked toward the hallway. (Un)fortunately this route forced her to walk toward Sherlock and step around him. As she passed him she felt his eyes on the back of her head. She opened the closet and pulled out a few pillows and two extra blankets.

Behind her eyes she could feel her exhaustion from the day before battling with the buzzing thoughts of an extraordinary evening. She had just had an otherworldly conversation with one of her most beloved characters that encompassed tea, classic I’m-going-to-try-to-pick-up-the-girl John, making Sherlock laugh - that had not gone unnoticed by her fangirl notions - explaining fan-fiction, gushing affectionately over John, realizing and almost revealing vital information that may cause a plethora of unknown side effects and finally, time travel.

Hope was pretty sure it was the crowning champion of Most Interesting Conversation Ever.

She walked back into the living room. “This should do it.” She handed the pillows and blankets to John.

“Thanks.”

When his gaze wasn’t upon her she allowed herself a moment to stare at him, once again thinking of all the pain that awaited him.

Hope quickly blinked back the tears threatening to come.

John tossed a blanket at Sherlock who promptly tossed it back at him. “I don’t need it.”

“Alright fine.” John shrugged and began to lay the blankets down on the floor for himself.

Sherlock moved to the couch and once again collapsed gracefully upon it.

Hope shook away the painful thoughts and instead watched the scene in front of her in amazement for a moment before turning around to walk into her bedroom.

_I’m having a slumber party with John and Sherlock. Dear Sherlockian Penthouse…_


	3. Chapter 3

Despite her brain whirling and twirling the events of the evening, her exhaustion won out and Hope had fallen asleep the very moment her head had hit the pillow.

The next thing she knew she was opening her eyes. She was curled on her side, wrapped comfortably in her blanket, facing her bedroom door. There was early morning blue-grey light illuminating her room. She shifted slightly to bring her hands to her eyes to rub the sleep away from them when she noticed him.

Sherlock was sitting on the edge of her bed staring at the wall in front of him.

Hope’s heart stopped, stuttered, and then began to race.

_Holy Mother of God! Sherlock Holmes is in my bedroom sitting on my bed!_

He had made no move to indicate that he had noticed her stirring.

Hope allowed herself a moment to drink in the pure pleasure of just staring at this amazing, gorgeous creature perched on the edge of her bed.

Images she would never admit out loud began to flood her mind.

 _Stop it!_ She said inwardly, scolding her fangirl notions.

With much inner whimpering begging her not too she finally spoke. “Sherlock?”

He blinked and turned to face her, locking his eyes with hers. His pale skin shined like the moon and his eyes were blue-hazel in the early morning light, striking a stark contrast with his dark unruly locks.

Hope could barely breathe.

_Dear God, he’s trying to kill me._

“Whaeroodoen-“ She stopped, took a breath, “What are you doing in my room?”

“I wanted to talk to you before John woke up.” He said as if it should have been painfully obvious.

She sat up, making sure to keep the blanket wrapped around her legs and waist. “What is it?”

He looked away from her and started speaking directly to the wall in front of him. “Based off your display of in-depth knowledge about John earlier I have deduced your knowledge about me and everything else that has to do with the show is just as vast. So I’m sure most of what I am about to say to you won’t come as a surprise.” He lowered his gaze to the floor.

Hope sat up a little straighter.

“Mycroft and I have been building our plan to take Moriarty down for months. A few days ago, after we got home from Baskerville, I received a text from Mycroft telling me that our plan was ready for the next phase.” He stopped talking, still looking down at the floor.

“And?” Hope prompted him after a moment.

Sherlock finally looked at her, locking his eyes with hers. “You said the show ended with the Baskerville case. We both know that’s not true.”

Hope bit her lip, but chose not to respond.

He continued to stare into her eyes as he spoke. “I think I can safely say that there is, in fact, at least one more episode you aren’t telling us about. I can also safely say, based off the timing of the episodes that this episode is about our plan for my inevitable meeting with Moriarty.” He stopped, piercing her soul with his eyes. “Am I wrong?”

Hope blinked then sighed. “It would be an insult to the both of us if I said ‘yes.’” She lowered her head. “I was pretty sure you would see through my hesitation earlier, but Sherlock, look,” she lifted her gaze to him again, “I can’t give you any-“

Sherlock abruptly cut her off. “Listen to me. Obviously my and Mycroft’s plan must work, otherwise there wouldn’t be another episode coming out. I don’t need or even want to know anything about that.” He started to sound a little desperate and rushed forward. “I saw the look you gave John at the table and again after giving him the pillows and blankets. Please, what happens to John that would make you give him that look and is there any way I can stop it from happening?”

Hope gaped at him. That was the last thing she expected to come out of Sherlock’s mouth. She expected he was going to try and reason with her as to why it would be a good idea to tell him what happens. She did not expect he was going to reveal his concern for John’s well-being.

Her mind buzzed.

If Sherlock is surprised at the knowledge of John somehow getting hurt, then jumping from the roof must not have been part of the original plan - which means Sherlock is currently under the assumption that the original plan, whatever the hell it is/was, must have/will work(ed).

“I can deduce,” Sherlock continued after Hope gave no response, “that he doesn’t die. I have seen that kind of grief on the faces of far too many people to know that that was not the kind of grief you were showing. Your face looked more – _tortured!_ It was the kind of anguish that lasts and lasts.” His eyes flashed with something Hope couldn’t quite place. “Please, I have to know. I have to stop it.”

Hope felt a stinging in her eyes and realized she was crying. She could feel the cold and familiar ache once again squeezing her heart, bringing along with it a new ache, a worse ache. The ache of knowing what was going to happen, the ache of knowing it was going to happen to someone _real -_ not just a character on a television show.

Suddenly she felt the urge to lash out at Sherlock, to hit him, to scream at him. It was after all _his_ choices that would inevitably result in John’s pain.

_If you just would have told him._

Hope must have given something away on her face because Sherlock shifted his eyes to study her again.

She tried to gather herself. “Look-“ She was cut off but this time it was not by Sherlock, it was by a series of knocks on her front door. “Crap!” She hissed.

She jumped up from her bed, Sherlock already several steps ahead of her. He disappeared around the corner into the living room as Hope grabbed her robe and wrapped it around herself. By the time she came around the same corner John and Sherlock were gathering up the blankets and pillows.

“Quick,” she whispered. “Take it and go into my room. Close the door.”

Another set of knocks.

Hope began moving toward her front door just as Sherlock shut her bedroom door.

She didn’t bother checking her peep-hole and began unlocking the bolts. She swung the door opened and was greeted by a million dollar smile from Rex.

“Good Morning!” He said brightly.

“Oh!” Hope exclaimed, reaching up to fiddle with her necklace. “Rex! What – uh – What are you doing here?”

His smile faltered slightly, but he continued to speak in a cheery tone. “I crashed at Mom’s last night. I got up early, so I went and grabbed us some coffee and biscuits.” He brandished a cup holder, with two cups in it, and a brown paper bag.

“Oh!” Hope exclaimed again. “How sweet of you.”

There was a pause - a very long pause.

Rex gave her a peculiar look. “Mind if I come in?” He asked her.

“Uh…” She knew she should try to get rid of him, but she didn’t want to seem rude. He brought her coffee and biscuits for Pete’s sake. “Um… Sure. _Sure!_ Come on in.”

She moved to the side to allow him to enter.

As he passed her, he paused and gave her an appraising look. “You sleep ok last night? You look a little frazzled.”

“Yeah. Fine.” She gave him her best ‘I’m not lying or hiding anything’ smile.

He studied her a moment longer then walked toward the kitchen, speaking to her over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you already be dressed for work? It’s six thirty.”

She looked at the clock on the wall. “Shit, I’m going to be late.” She groaned.

“Go get dressed. I’ll keep an eye on the coffee for you.” He winked at her then set the cup holder and bag down on the table.

Hope was just about to turn when Rex spoke up again. “Hey, where did you get this?” He grabbed up the white piece of paper that Sherlock had sketched on.

“From one of the kids at the library yesterday.” She lied coolly.

He looked up at her. “Really? That’s actually kind of funny.”

Hope cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“It looks just like one of the Greek Artifacts that came in last night.”

Hope’s heart skipped. “You mean that staff is sitting at your museum right now?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Hope barely had time to process what she just heard when her bedroom door opened.

Rex looked up and in the space of a heart beat his eyes widened to the size of golf balls.

Hope stood frozen between Rex and Sherlock and John.

After what felt like an eternity, Rex finally looked at her. “Hope.” He said calmly. “Why are Khan and Bilbo in your _bedroom_?”

Hope started to nervously giggle, which turned into a nervous laugh, which turned into borderline hysteria.

All three of them were looking at her.

She promptly went sober.

Sherlock turned to look at Rex and gave him an incredibly fake smile. “Forgive me for dropping this on you so quickly but you have just revealed some vital information and I thought it prudent to come out and introduce myself to help get you through the disbelief you are about to experience much faster so that you can help us.” He paused to take his first breath and finished with “The name’s Sherlock Holmes.” He extended his hand politely.

Beside Sherlock, John had his hand across his forehead looking down at the floor.

Rex was doing a really awesome impression of a cod fish, looking from Sherlock’s extended hand to Hope’s face several times. “Is he serious?” He finally asked her.

Sherlock dropped his hand as Hope started speaking. “Uh.” She dropped her head and looked at the floor. “Yes.” She mumbled and then looked back up into Rex’s eyes. “Yes, yes he is.” She paused looking at Sherlock and John. “Guys, this is Rex Harper, a good friend of mine. He works at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.” She then faced Rex. “Rex I’d like you to meet Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, also good friends of mine.”

Rex began barking out several long laughs. “You’re not serious?” He stopped laughing at the look Hope was giving him.

“Look,” it was John who spoke this time. “I apologize for my partner’s lack of tact, but he is right, we need to speed this along. We were transported from our world to this world by a staff - the staff you see on that piece of paper - if you can help us get to it, we can go home.”

Rex gave him an assessing look then turned back to Hope. “You _are_ serious.”

“Afraid so.” She gave him a weak smile and a nod.

Rex looked John and Sherlock over again before pulling out a chair in the kitchen and sitting down. “Ok. Let me get my head around this.” He paused. “These guys,” he waved his hand at Sherlock and John, “are the real Holmes and Watson sent here by this staff,” he held up the sketch, “and in order to get them home they need to use it again?”

“Actually we were sent here by a _different_ staff from _our_ universe, and we need to use _your_ universe’s staff for the first time.” Sherlock corrected him.

Hope mirrored John’s expression of surprise but Rex laughed loudly.

He looked Sherlock up and down before saying, “Sherlock Holmes in the flesh. I’ll be damned.” He tapped his knuckles onto the table before leaning back in his chair and flinging an arm over the back of the seat. “How can I help?”

“Wait.” Hope gawked at him. “You believe us? Just like that?”

Rex gave her his usual award-winning smile. “Hope, you are the most level headed, reasonable person I have ever met. If you say they’re real, then they’re real.”

Hope’s heart swelled with affection for Rex. She smiled broadly at him. “Thank you.”

“Besides, this sounds like fun! It’s not every day you get to go on an adventure with Holmes and Watson.” He smiled at her. “So how can I help?” He asked again, turning to face Sherlock and John once more.

“We need to get to the staff.” John told him.

Hope unthinkingly glanced at the clock on the stove. “Oh damnit!” She shouted suddenly. Three pairs of eyes fixated on her. “Work!” She groaned.

“I gotcha covered.” Rex said suddenly, giving her a wink and a smile. He pulled out his phone, plugged in the numbers and placed the phone to his ear. “Hey Tom! It’s Rex Harper. Yeah man, everything is great at the museum. Listen. I’m over at Hope’s place. Yeah. She has a terrible fever and asked if I would call you for her. Yes. Uh huh. Great. I will. Thanks.” He hung up the phone giving Hope another wink. “Tom wishes you a speedy recovery.”

Hope beamed at him. “Rex, you are amazing.”

Rex smiled. “I know.”

“So about the staff…” John prompted Rex again.

“Right.” Rex cleared his throat. “It’s sitting in a storage room at the museum waiting to be put out on display.”

“Then we go and get it.” Sherlock said simply.

“And how do we do that?” John asked.

“Yeah, I can’t just check the staff out and bring it here like a library book.” Rex told him.

“You don’t have too. It doesn’t need to leave the museum at all. We just need to go there and use it. We’ll disappear and you can put it back in its nice little box.” Sherlock explained to them.

“Sherlock,” Hope began. “As I told you last night, you can’t go walking around New York looking like you do.”

He shrugged. “Then we change clothes. It’s cold outside so being bundled up to hide our faces won’t get another glance.”

“And what about when we get there? It’s going to look really obvious if you guys are wearing scarfs, hoodies, and sunglasses inside the museum.” Hope challenged him.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, a retort already on his lips when Rex’s voice broke in.

“They can come in the back door, where we get deliveries.” He smiled broadly at the three of them, looking absolutely at ease.

“What about security cameras?” John asked.

Hope looked at Rex and to her surprise Rex looked at her instead of John with a wicked smile on his face. “Barry’s working the security booth today.”

“No! No way!” Hope shook her head side to side vigorously. “That guy’s a total creep.”

Sherlock and John were looking at them both, quizzical expressions clearly evident on their faces.

Rex laughed at her. “Aw come on, Hope. It’s perfect. You can distract Barry from watching the monitors long enough for me to open the door and let them in. No one will be the wiser. Come on, do it for them!” He smiled at her and nodded his head toward Sherlock and John.

Hope groaned loudly, pouted and then stared daggers at Sherlock and John. “If you ever want to know how much I love you both, visit Barry, then you’ll know.”

John gave her a wide smile.

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before he blinked, tsk’ed his lips, clapped his hands together and addressed the room at large. “Seems we have a plan. Shall we start with the first part?”

“The clothes!” Rex exclaimed jumping up from his chair. “I got that part covered. Mom’s got a bunch of me and my brothers old clothes stored in a closet. I’ll just grab some of them.” He bounced on his heels and toes looking positively gleeful.

Hope couldn’t help but grin at him. “Speaking of clothes, I should get dressed.”

“Wear something sexy.” Rex told her. “For Barry.” He winked.

Hope rolled her eyes. “I hate you. I really, really hate you.” She laughed and turned to go into her bedroom as Rex headed towards the front door.

**

Fifteen minutes later Hope exited her bedroom.

John and Sherlock had already hastily changed in to the clothes Rex brought for them.

John didn’t look much different. He didn’t bother changing his blue-jeans but he was wearing a grey sweatshirt with a zipper and a hoodie. He seemed comfortable and completely happy with his new look.

Sherlock on the other hand looked anything but happy. He was wearing a pair of beige slacks slightly too short for him, sneakers and a red pull over sweatshirt with NYU plastered across the front.

Hope smiled at his positively appalled expression and the agitation he was blatantly exhibiting. Clearly he preferred his carefully tailored suit and coat.

“Wow,” Hope said after a moment. “You guys look completely – “

“Ridiculous?” Sherlock suggested.

“Normal.” Hope finished with a smile and then spotted their other clothes in a heap on the kitchen table. “What about those?” She asked.

Sherlock gave them a quick glance. “Keep them.”

“Aw, that’s one of my favorite jumpers!” John groaned.

“All your jumpers are your favorite, John.” Sherlock said rolling his eyes. “I’ll buy you a new one as soon as we get back.” He turned to face Hope. “Shall we?”

Hope smiled at the both of them. “Wait a second.” She said and walked into the kitchen.

She picked up the Blu-ray off the table and pulled the cover out of its sleeve. She ripped the back half off, keeping only the front that showed Sherlock and John with Martin and Ben’s name over them.

She walked over and offered it to Sherlock who looked at it curiously.

“I know you’re not big on sentiment,” she gave him a smile. “But I want you to keep this. Something to remember me - this world - by.”

Sherlock held her gaze for a moment before taking the picture from her. He nodded his head, folded the picture and put it into his back pocket.

Out of the corner of her eye Hope could see John smiling at them.

“Alright, we can go now.” She said walking towards the door.

“Wait!” Rex bounced over to them. “Don’t forget your accessories!” He brandished two pairs of aviator sunglasses.

Sherlock gave the sunglasses a look to kill then snatched them out of Rex’s hand.

“Sherlock.” John said in a scolding tone, politely taking the other pair of sunglasses from Rex.

Sherlock sighed and looked back to Rex. “Thank you.”

John smiled at him.

“Can we go now?” Sherlock huffed.

Hope suppressed a giggle. “Yes.”

**

A few minutes later they were all squished into the small elevator, the tinny music filling in the small gaps of air around them. Hope was purposefully keeping her head down fearing that she might just explode with laughter at how miserable Sherlock looked with the hoodie and sunglasses on.

Finally the elevator came to a stop and they all clambered out.

Hope took in a deep breath.

_Here we go._

The early morning blue-grey light was gone, replaced with a bright and cheery sun blazing in the sky off to their right.

“It will be faster and less risky if we take a cab.” Hope explained, raising her hand to hail a taxi already coming down the street.

When the taxi pulled up, Sherlock reached forward to open the door for Hope.

She was about to say ‘thank you’ when Sherlock turned to face Rex and John. “Hope and I will take this one. You two take the next one. It’ll look better if we don’t all arrive at the same time.”

Hope stared at him for a moment and then reluctantly climbed into the cab. He elegantly (is it even possible to move that elegantly?) followed after her, closed the door and spoke to the driver.

“The Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

Hope looked out the window and gave Rex and John a tentative smile as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

She kept her eyes focused out the window, refusing to look at Sherlock. She knew why he wanted to be alone with her.

Sherlock finally broke the silence. “It’s my fault.” He said quietly.

Hope, despite herself, swung her head around to look at him.

He had removed his sunglasses and was looking down at his hands. “I could tell by the look on your face when we were in your bedroom. I cause it - whatever ‘it’ is.” He looked absolutely miserable.

Hope reached out and took one of his hands into hers. This caused Sherlock to look at her in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. She squeezed his hand and gave him a regretful smile.

“I can’t, Sherlock. I’m sorry.” She whispered.

As she tried to pull her hand away he gripped it tighter, staring into her eyes.

“He’s my friend, Hope. My only friend. I told him as much in Baskerville. How can I go forward knowing that John will get hurt because of me?” His eyes were pleading.

The ache in her chest almost took her breath away.

She wants to tell him that even though John gets hurt, John will eventually forgive him and that their lives will go on as normal.

Sherlock, however, would not know what it is he does to cause John’s pain. Telling Sherlock that John will forgive him could affect his decision making, possibly causing him to change the plan and ultimately what happens on the roof.

What could she possibly say to Sherlock about his and John’s future that wouldn’t jeopardize either of them but would allow her to tell him that everything, including John, will be ok in the end?

_In the end!_

The idea came to her suddenly.

It was so simple.

“You go forward,” she began, “Because of Bees.”

Sherlock tilted his head and stared at her for a moment, confusion etched onto his face. He then furrowed his brow and mouthed ‘Bees?’

Hope waited.

_Come on, Sherlock._

Slowly Sherlock’s features shifted to an expression of understanding.

“Oh!” He exclaimed then smiled widely at her. “Bees!”

Hope gave him a broad grin and another squeeze of his hand then leaned back to her side of the cab.

Sherlock pushed his sunglasses back onto his face, looked out his window and repeated under his breath “Bees.”

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of them lost in thought.

“What’s Anthea’s real name?” Hope suddenly asked.

Sherlock looked away from the window and pulled his glasses down his face slightly, just enough to let her see his eyes. “Who?”

“Mycroft’s assistant, the one with her nose in her blackberry all the time.”

“Why do you ask?”

“I figure I only have a little time left to visit with you, might as well ask you some _important_ questions.” Hope explained.

Sherlock laughed. “It’s Betsy.”

Hope snorted with laughter. “No wonder the poor girl wants to change it all the time!”

Sherlock laughed with her.

It was a good feeling.

All too soon the Museum came into their view.

Hope paid the cabbie and as he drove off she said “The back door is around that way.” She pointed to her left. “You can follow the sidewalk around to it.”

Sherlock nodded his understanding.

It wasn’t long until John and Rex pulled up.

Rex joined her and they began to walk toward the entrance.

Hope looked over her shoulder and gave John and Sherlock a nod as Sherlock led the way down the sidewalk.

“This is cool!” Rex said suddenly. “We’re on a super-secret mission to help Sherlock Holmes and John Watson get back home! The fate of both worlds is in our hands!”

Hope slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re crazy!”

“Aw, come on. You mean to tell me you aren’t having fun?” He gave her a sideways glance.

Hope couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, yes.”

Rex winked at her as they reached the entrance door. He opened it for her and she entered.

“Hey Travis!” Rex beamed at the morning security doorman.

Travis smiled at him. “Hey man. Good morning.”

“You too! You remember Hope, right?” He waved a hand in her direction.

“Of course.” He smiled at her. “How are you doing Hope? The library keeping you busy?”

“I’m great, and yes they are forever keeping me busy.”

“I thought I’d show Hope the new exhibit I’m working on.” Rex lied coolly.

“Yeah? Well have fun you two.” He smiled at them again as they walked by.

They turned a corner and picked up their pace. It wasn’t long until they reached the blue door marked ‘Security.’

Hope groaned inwardly as Rex banged on the door with his fist.

There was a clicking sound and the door opened.

Barry was a skinny man a little taller than Hope with black greasy hair, a pointy nose and unusually large eyes.

The moment he spotted Hope, he gave her a stomach churning smile, revealing a set of horribly yellowed teeth.

“Hey Barry.” Rex greeted him politely.

Barry turned to look at him as if he didn’t see him standing next to Hope to begin with.

“Rex.” He nodded then turned his attention back to Hope leaning his arm up against the door and looking her up and down. “What can I _do_ you for?” He was chewing a piece of gum like a cow chews cud.

Though Barry was clearly showing no interest in Rex, Rex answered him. “I was just about to show Hope some of the new exhibit we got in when she asked if you still worked here.”

Barry lazily shifted his gaze to Rex.

Rex gave him a big, obviously fake smile. “When I told her yes she had to come right over and say hello.”

Barry’s eyebrows went up at this statement and he looked back to Hope. “Really now?” He grabbed his security belt hitching it up a little higher on his nonexistent waist.

Rex placed his hand on Hope’s back and gave her a little push forward.

Hope squeaked. “Hey, um, Barry.”

Barry looked Hope up and down again, giving her another stomach churning smile.

“Hey listen,” Rex said quickly. “I’ve actually got to run across the museum and grab something. Why don’t you two catch up? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Hope gave Rex a look that said ‘I hope you die’ as he winked at her and left her alone with Barry.

Hope looked back to Barry and gave him what she hoped looked like a decent smile.

Barry raised his hand and thumbed his nose. “’Knew you’d eventually succumb to my charms, Hope.”

Hope wrinkled her nose at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Hard to say no to _this_.” He gestured toward himself.

Hope actually felt the vomit forming in the back of her throat.

Behind Barry Hope could see the monitors displaying the camera feed. Rex was quickly crossing from one to the next.

She looked back at Barry. “Yeah. It’s very hard to say no to… _that_ ” She waved her hands awkwardly through the air.

“You’re not the first one to fall for the Bare-ster.” He told her as he brought his hands down to his sides and moved them in sync with his hips in a circle. “Ladies _love_ the Bare-ster.”

She chanced another glance at the monitors as she said “Uh huh, I’m sure they do.”

Rex was at the back door.

This time Barry decided he was going to follow her gaze but before he could turn around Hope said “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

This immediately brought his attention back to her. He cocked a very bushy eyebrow at her. “You buyin’?”

Hope tried not to snort at him as she shook her head up and down. “Yeah. I’ll even pick you up. Can you write down your address?”

Barry happily obliged reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pad and pen.

As he was writing on the pad Hoped watched the monitor behind him and saw Rex let Sherlock and John inside.

Hope breathed in relief and looked back at Barry.

He finished writing and handed it to her.

“Great. Thank you.” She looked down at the piece of paper. It had his address and phone number along with a horrible little doodle of what Hope could only guess was Barry bending her over a table.

It took everything in her power not to slap him. Instead she gave him a weak smile. “I’m going to go find Rex now.” She started to back away from him.

“Aw, don’t leave yet.” He actually reached out and touched her arm, making her shudder. “He said he’d be back in a few minutes.”

She continued to back away from him. “I should go look – yeah – I should just go.”

She turned around walking as fast as should could without running.

She turned a corner and ran right into Rex. “Oh!” She clutched her chest.

Rex recovered quickly. “They’re in the storage room, come on.” He grabbed her arm and started leading her down the hall.

A few corners later they were outside the storage room.

“Alright, you go inside with them, the lot number on the box is 6-3-7-8-B.” Rex told her.

“You’re not coming in?”

Rex shook his head. “I have to keep an eye on the door.”

Hope gave him a smile. “Thank you, Rex.” She kissed him on the cheek.

He gave his award-winning smile to her and said “Say good bye to them for me, ok?”

“You got it.” She turned the door knob and walked inside.

“So which box is it in?” Sherlock asked promptly.

“Nice to see you too, Sherlock.” Hope said rolling her eyes at him. “6-3-7-8-B.” She told them.

It took only a few minutes to locate the box.

They opened it up and inside laid an ugly, yet oddly stunning flying snake staff.

John reached in and carefully picked it up. He, like Hope and Sherlock, admired it for a moment and then he said “So how do we work this thing?” He looked over to Sherlock. “Tap it on the ground three times while saying ‘there’s no place like home’?”

“Hand it here.” Sherlock told him, rolling his eyes.

John did.

Sherlock examined it for a few minutes when he finally said “Something’s wrong. Something’s missing.”

“What do you mean?” Hope asked him.

Sherlock completely ignored her and instead she watched as he closed his eyes. She could see his eyes moving back and forth very quickly under the lids, and he tilted his head to one side then the other.

Hope turned to John. “Is he doing his mind palace thing?” She asked him in astonishment.

John placed his index finger to his lips, signaling for her to be quiet but nodded his head up and down in the ‘yes’ gesture.

Hope watched, mesmerized.

Then as if he was given an electric shock he jumped, opened his eyes and said “The eyes. The snake is missing its eyes.” He pointed to the deep indentations on the head of the snake where eyes would have sat. “Moriarty’s staff had eyes. Red rubies in the shape of diamonds.” He suddenly turned to Hope. “Just like the rubies on your necklace.”

Hope automatically reached up to grab her necklace. “My necklace?” She asked confused.

Sherlock walked forward to stand directly over her. He looked down into her eyes. His eyes were pastel blue and his skin was creamy pale in the light of the room. His dark curly locks fell forward around his face framing the God-like creature dreamily.

Hope couldn’t tear her eyes away. She didn’t _want_ too. Her heart beat rose as she watched in her peripheral vision his hands coming up to her neck.

Right before they got there he smiled at her and asked “May I?”

Hope realized she wasn’t breathing. She took in a slow breath as she lowered her head and allowed him to unclasp her necklace.

She closed her eyes at his soft touch on the back of her neck.

_Oh God Oh God Oh God_

Sherlock unhooked it and she looked back up at him. He smiled at her and Hope felt weak in the knees.

“Thank you.” He said, turning back to the staff.

John and Hope - still trying to remember how to breathe - watched as Sherlock pulled the rubies off the thin gold chain, and place each one into the sockets.

Almost immediately after he placed the second eye in, the staff began to emit a soft glow.

It was incredibly beautiful.

Sherlock smiled at himself. “That explains it!” He announced.

“Explains what?” John asked.

Sherlock turned to face him and Hope. “Before, after we learned the staff was in the museum, I thought perhaps that was why we were dropped off here. Because it was in close proximity to the staff. However, given what just happened, I now understand why we specifically showed up on the sixth floor of a New York flat building.” He pointed to the ruby eyes. “The eyes are the power source of the staff, and when it transports someone it transports them to the power source, even if it’s not with the staff.”

Hope stood stunned. “Are you saying my necklace is a key for a staff that opens doors to other worlds?”

“Yes.” Sherlock said simply.

“Well lucky me.” Hope said sarcastically.

“And now we have a very serious problem.” Sherlock told them.

“What?” John asked before Hope could.

“The staff will transport us back to the location of the other staff. Do I need to remind you who has the other staff?”

“Moriarty!” Hope and John said at the same time.

“If you go back there you will be _literally_ delivering yourself up on a silver platter!” Hope exclaimed.

“We don’t know that for sure. “ John chimed in. “For all we know he used it and threw it into a broom closet.”

“Unlikely.” Sherlock disagreed. “He wouldn’t leave something this powerful lying around.”

“You can’t go.” Hope said solemnly. “You have no idea what you could be popping into.”

“I’m afraid we have no choice. This is the only way we can get home. We have to risk it.” Sherlock wasn’t really talking to Hope - he was talking to John, looking deeply into his eyes.

John’s features looked firm, his jaw set. He nodded his head very slightly to Sherlock.

“Guys!” Hope wailed. “You can’t do this! There has to be another way!” She could feel the tears forming in her eyes.

John moved toward her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “This is what we do remember? John and Sherlock saving the day.” He squeezed his arm around her.

She allowed him to console her and then looked up to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked her in her eyes. “Thank you, Hope Matthews, for everything. Perhaps one day we can come back and visit.” He gave her a warm, genuine smile.

He held out the staff for her to take. “Your key, you use it.”

She took it from him.

“May I suggest you remove the rubies and have a jeweler fix your necklace after we are gone?”

Hope wiped away a few tears. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” She clutched the staff as John moved away from her and joined Sherlock.

She gazed at them for a moment before saying “It was an absolute honor to meet you guys. This has been an amazing experience. Please don’t forget me, because I sure as hell _won’t_ be forgetting you.” She smiled and laughed.

“I highly doubt we will be forgetting this adventure any time soon. Too bad I can’t put this one on the blog.” John told her with a smile.

Hope smiled back. “Please be careful.” She said as she tapped the staff on the floor.

The soft glow of the staff intensified, getting brighter and brighter, white light pouring from every corner. Hope was forced to close her eyes.

A second later the light was gone and she opened them.

She was not standing in the storage room and the staff was gone from her hands. She was standing in a beautifully decorated office. Sherlock and John were standing right beside her. It took her only a second to spot the man sitting at a large, antique, wooden desk with two other men beside him. She could see the staff in a locked, glass box sitting on a shelf behind the desk.

The three men looked up just as Hope had noticed them and the two unknown men pulled out their guns.

“Well, isn’t this an unexpected surprise!” Moriarty said looking to Sherlock. “So nice of you to drop by, Sherlock.” He looked to John. “And you as well, Johnny boy.” Finally he looked to Hope. He tilted his head to the side and looked directly into her eyes as a sickly smile stretched across his face. “And I see you’ve brought company.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hope’s heart stopped in her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. She stood frozen in shock and fear staring into the face of James Moriarty.

His two goons were pointing their guns directly at Sherlock and John.

He studied her with interest for a long moment before turning back to face Sherlock.

Hope could see him taking in both Sherlock and John’s unusual choice of clothes, but he made no comment about them, instead saying “I do wish you would have called ahead, I would have prepared a better welcoming.”

“We didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” Sherlock said sarcastically.

Moriarty chuckled. “A surprise indeed.” He stood slowly from his chair, fixing his no doubt expensive suit. He snapped his fingers and like two well trained dogs, the two unknown men advanced on Sherlock and John.

With guns pointed directly at their chests, they raised their hands and didn’t fight as each of them was patted down and searched.

John looked longingly at his gun as it was removed from the back of his pants and then tossed into the corner of the room. Both their phones joined John’s gun in the corner.

The man searching Sherlock pulled the picture from the Blu-ray out from his back pocket and Hope watched as he started to unfold it.

_Oh no._

“Sir.” The man spoke up. “Have a look at this.” He held it out.

Moriarty came forward and took it from him. He stared down at the picture for a long moment before looking over to Hope then back to the picture.

“Well now. This. Is. Interesting.” He emphasized each word. He walked over to Sherlock, getting extremely close to the side of his face. “Where have you been, I wonder?” He whispered slowly.

Sherlock said nothing and kept his eyes focused straight ahead of him.

“I must admit,” Moriarty began as he walked away from Sherlock and over to Hope. “I did not know where the staff would send you.” He looked over his shoulder back to Sherlock. “I didn’t really care, you see.” He told him in a bored tone of voice. He turned back to Hope and then looked down at the picture once more. “But now I must say I am _very_ interested to hear about this other world.” He looked up and into Hope’s eyes. “What’s your name, my dear?”

Hope swallowed the lump in her throat. “My name is Hope.”

Moriarty raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Sherlock. “Is that an American accent I hear?”

Sherlock gave him a bored expression and shrugged his shoulders.

Moriarty smiled and returned his gaze to Hope. “Hope.” He repeated, popping the P in her name. “Such a lovely name.”

He moved closer to her, she could feel his breath on her face. He held up the picture in front of her with one hand and with the other reached up to her face, gently rubbing the back of his hand across her cheek. “Tell me what this is.”

Hope pulled away from him. “Don’t touch me!”

“Oooh!” Moriarty exclaimed, turning to face Sherlock. “She’s a feisty one!” He looked down to the floor for a moment as if thinking about something and then said softly “I don’t like feisty women.” Without warning he turned back to Hope and backhanded her across the same cheek he touched only a moment before.

Hope stumbled backwards clutching her face.

John lunged forward -“You son of a bitch!”- but he was grabbed by one of the thugs and held in place with the barrel of the gun pushed right against his head.

Moriarty ignored him, straightening his suit as Hope regained her balance and looked at him.

He gave her a smile. “Shall we try this again?”

She stared defiantly at him. “Go to hell.”

His smile turned into a frown and he sighed. “Very well. I had hoped this would be easy, but – “ he held up his hand and snapped his fingers again.

Hope watched helplessly as one of the thugs moved around to the front of John and punched him in the gut. John doubled over, coughing, onto his knees, clutching his stomach.

Sherlock didn’t flinch, but he narrowed his eyes at the back of Moriarty’s head, his jaw set.

“John!” Hope wailed, trying to move around Moriarty to get to him.

Moriarty moved with her, blocking her path. She stopped and stared into his eyes. “You bastard!”

“I’m not going to ask you _nicely_ again, Hope.” He said holding up the picture again. “Tell me what this is.”

Hope looked down at John who was still struggling to catch his breath and she felt the sting of tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t know what she should do.

Moriarty impatiently raised his hand again to snap his fingers.

“It’s the cover of a Blu-ray!” Hope shouted at him.

Moriarty lowered his hand. “Why are they on the cover?”

“It’s not them, it’s the actors that play them.” She told him.

Moriarty raised his brow at her. “What do you mean - actors?”

Hope bit her lip, hesitating.

Moriarty was not exhibiting patience and he closed the gap between himself and Hope. He twisted his fingers into her hair, making her cry out in pain and then yanking her around until he was behind her and they were both facing Sherlock and John.

He nodded his head to the minion beside John who promptly pressed the tip of his gun to the back of John’s head. “Unless you want poor Johnny boy’s brains all over my floor I suggest you _answer me_!” He hissed into her ear.

“They’re not real in my world!” She cried, struggling against him. “Sherlock Holmes isn’t real, he’s a fictional character! You’re all fictional characters!”

Moriarty suddenly released her and she crumpled to the floor.

Moriarty was walking away from her so she couldn’t see his face. “Not real?” He looked down at the picture. “Benedict Cumberbatch.” He said in a mocking tone.  “A name even funnier than yours, Sherlock.” He said, turning his head toward Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. “And Moriarty isn’t laughable _at all_.” Sherlock quipped back.

Hope wasn’t sure what look Moriarty gave him, but he must have showed something on his face because Sherlock actually quirked a smile.

She looked over at John and caught his eye. He was still on his knees, but he appeared to be breathing normally again.

He gave her a look that said ‘it’s ok’ and she gave him a look right back that said ‘how the hell is it ok?’

Their silent conversation was abruptly cut off by Moriarty whirling around on his heel to face Hope once more.

“A world without Sherlock Holmes!” He tossed his hands into the air and did a little spin. “No Sherlock, no Mycroft!” He said Mycroft’s name with a bitterness. “No one to get in my way.” He continued to prance around the room with excitement like a kid on Christmas morning. “I could come and go as I please from this world to the other!” He ended his prancing behind his desk, facing the shelf and looking down at the staff in its glass box. “An entire world, mine for the taking.”

Hope’s soul turned cold at his words. Moriarty was a villain, and villains require a hero to balance them out. If Moriarty didn’t have Sherlock to stop him he could and _would_ wreak havoc on her world. Moriarty might be a fictional character where she comes from but he was written as an evil genius who could only be stopped by Sherlock Holmes himself.  Without Sherlock her world stood no chance against him.

“Of course,” Moriarty continued, bringing Hope out of her thoughts. “It would be a lot easier if Sherlock Holmes didn’t exist in _either_ world.” He turned back to Sherlock and gave him a sad smile. “I did have something pretty big in mind for you, Sherlock. I had this whole beautifully crafted plan in mind. But then one of my ‘Dear Jim’ associates called on me for help. As payment he gave me this staff.” He waved his hand behind him in the direction of the staff. “I won’t bore you with how I figured out what the staff could do, but when I did, I realized it would be so much easier to simply make you,” he crossed his hands in front of his face and then waved them apart. “disappear.”

Sherlock gave him a fake apologetic look. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Moriarty laughed, but continued on. “Now, with this wonderful opportunity that has just presented itself to me, I think I’ll just kill you now.” He gave Sherlock a grim smile and then looked up to his two minions.

The two goons smiled and pressed their guns into the backs of Sherlock and John’s head.

“Woah!” Moriarty shouted. “Not here!” He waved his hand towards the beautiful rugs on the floor. “Hello, Persian rugs!” He then stared into Sherlock’s eyes. “Take them to the roof.”

One thug pressed his gun into Sherlock’s back, forcing him to take a few steps forward, while the other thug yanked John up off his knees and repeated the same process with him.

They were ushered to the door while Moriarty turned back around, opened the glass box and took out the staff.

Hope was just starting to think she had been forgotten about when Moriarty turned to face her. “Oh I haven’t forgotten about you, _my dear_.” He said as if he had just read her thoughts. “I would very much like it if you would accompany us to the roof. I wouldn’t want you to miss the show.” He gave her another twisted smile as she stood up slowly.

He motioned for her to follow his goons out the door.

She did, Moriarty closely following behind her, the staff clutched in his hand.

_This is not happening!_

Why wasn’t Sherlock doing anything?

They were lead down the hall and to a stairway where they slowly climbed up the steps until reaching a door marked ‘roof.’

“Open it.” The thug behind Sherlock told him.

Sherlock did as he was told and they all filed out onto the roof.

Even though it had been early morning in her world, here it was dark. The sky was completely clear of any clouds and the moon shined down on them brightly.

Moriarty’s minions forced Sherlock and John to their knees as the evil genius turned to face Hope.

“Which one first, do you think?” He asked her as if he was talking about which movie to watch.

Hope’s heart was racing. She could hear the blood pumping in her ears. She had to _do_ something! But what? What could she do?

“I know!” Moriarty exclaimed. “Let’s do the good Doctor first! I want to see the look on Sherlock’s face as dear Dr. Watson’s brains are splattered all over the roof top.”

He raised his hand to snap his fingers when suddenly there was a bright white flash of light.

Everyone was frozen, confused briefly as they all stared at the man who had just appeared on the rooftop.

“Rex!” Hope cried unthinkingly.

Many things suddenly happened at the same time.

Rex barely missed a beat and spotted Moriarty, rushing toward him.

Sherlock and John twisted around to their captors, capitalizing on their moment of confusion.

Sherlock knocked the gun from his goon’s hands and then promptly head-butted him, causing him to crumple to the ground.

John had also managed to make his thug drop his gun but he was a good forty pounds heavier than John and they continued to struggle, going down to the ground, fists flying this way and that.

Sherlock and Hope twisted their gaze over to Moriarty just as he swung the staff at Rex’s head, connecting and sending Rex backwards onto the roof.

“Rex!” Hope screamed, rushing forward to his side.

Moriarty was trying to make his way to the stairwell door when Sherlock launched himself at him with all his force, knocking Moriarty backwards and sending the staff skittering across the rooftop.

Hope looked down at Rex. “Rex!” She shook him. “Rex! Please wake up!”

No response.

Hope swung her head around violently looking for John.

John and his foe had both managed to get back on their feet. The taller, heavier minion swung at John’s head, but with amazing reflex John ducked, dodging the punch and then twisting back up to land his fist squarely in the man’s jaw, knocking him unconscious.

“John!” Hope cried.

John turned to face her.

“John please help him!” She begged him motioning towards Rex’s unmoving body.

John stood for a moment looking from Sherlock struggling with Moriarty to Rex and Hope.

Hope could see him torn between his Doctor and his Soldier instincts.

“Please!” She cried.

John rushed forward and began looking at Rex. He turned his head to the side and there was a gash, bleeding. John was shrugging off his jacket when Hope looked back up to Sherlock and Moriarty.

Moriarty was on the ground, Sherlock on top of him. Moriarty reared back and punched Sherlock, knocking him off him. He got up and attempted to scramble for the door again, but Sherlock spun himself around and grabbed his ankle, bringing Moriarty down with a ‘thud.’

Her mind was buzzing. _Really_ buzzing.

_What is that sound?_

“Hope! Hope!” John’s voice broke into her mind. She looked back down at Rex. John had his grey sweatshirt pressed to the side of Rex’s head, his thin white undershirt splashed with dark crimson. “He’s just knocked out – “He broke off, looking up, as a helicopter appeared from around one of the taller buildings.

The roof was flooded with a spot light and the air was violently whipping around them.

“This is the police! We have the place surrounded!” A booming voice came over them.

Hope and John looked at each other as the helicopter began to circle the building slowly.

Hope watched as John’s eyes left hers and moved to something behind her.

She turned her head back around and looked back over to Sherlock.

Moriarty and Sherlock’s fight had managed to take them extremely close to the edge of the roof and just as Hope turned around Moriarty backhanded Sherlock causing him to lose his balance.

Sherlock grasped at air once before managing to grab on to Moriarty’s suit, taking him with him as they both disappeared over the side.

“SHERLOCK!” Both Hope and John screamed.

John was on his feet first, Hope close behind him, momentarily forgetting about Rex.

_No. No. No._

She ran to the edge of the roof with John - fearing what she was about to see.

She peered over the edge and to her - relief? Sherlock was hanging onto the side of the fire escape, Moriarty dangling from his hand.

“Sherlock!” John yelled just as the helicopter spotlight landed on Sherlock and Moriarty.

The vortex of wind encircled them all - hair and jackets whipping and beating against them.

Moriarty started to laugh. A loud, insane laugh. “Wasn’t this FUN?!” He shouted, his face twisting into something deranged. “Can’t wait for our next game, Sherlock.” He said, attempting to grab Sherlock’s hand with his other, causing them to swing dangerously.

Hope watched as Sherlock turned to look up at John and stared into his face for what seemed like forever. Then he flitted his eyes to Hope and she watched as he narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw in determination before turning to look back down at Moriarty.

_Oh My God._

Moriarty turned very serious at Sherlock’s look and he shook his head. “No. You won’t do it. You’re on the side of the Angels.”

“I may be on the side of the Angels,” Sherlock said slowly. “But do not think for one _second_ I am one of them.”

He let go.

Moriarty’s face turned to one of surprise as he plummeted to the alleyway below, landing with a sickening crunch.

John and Hope stood stunned, neither believing what they had just seen.

“Little help?!” Sherlock shouted.

John shook his head and then reached down, offering Sherlock his hand. Sherlock took it and together they managed to get Sherlock up and over the edge of the roof.

Sherlock brushed himself off and said “Thank you.”

Hope rushed forward, knocking John out of the way. She wrapped her arms around Sherlock. He went a little ridged and awkwardly patted Hope on the back.

She let go of him, gave him a smile and then turned back around to go over to Rex.

The helicopter was coming back around to them just as the door to the roof suddenly busted open spitting forth several police officers, Greg Lestrade in the lead.

Lestrade spotted Sherlock. “Sherlock! Are you ok?” He rushed over to Sherlock’s side.

Hope was just wondering how they knew where they were when she heard a small “Uhh.”

She looked down and Rex opened his eyes slightly.

“Oh Rex!” Hope cried in relief.

He smiled at her, not quite his award-winning smile. “Hey. What did I miss?”

She beamed at him before turning her head to find John.

“John! He’s awake!” John moved forward to kneel beside her and Rex.

“You saved the day, Rex.” Hope said with tears of joy in her eyes.

“Of course I did.” Rex said faintly.

She laughed and gave Rex a quick kiss on the forehead. “John is going to take care of you.” She assured him. She looked at John who gave her a smile and a nod before she stood up.

She turned and saw Sherlock and Lestrade over by the edge of the roof where Moriarty had fallen and they were both looking down.

She began to walk towards them.

As she approached she heard Lestrade. “Christ, Sherlock! I suppose you’re going to tell me he fell out of a window too?”

“He lost his grip and fell.” Hope said, causing Lestrade and Sherlock to look up and at her.

Hope got a proper look at Sherlock and she could see red puffiness across his cheekbone and his lip was busted.

“And who are you?” Lestrade asked her, looking her up and down.

“This is my friend, Hope Matthews.” Sherlock said before Hope could open her mouth.

Hope and Lestrade both looked at him a little shocked.

“Really?” Lestrade asked, raising both eyebrows.

Sherlock ignored him and instead said in a very condescending tone “Took you long enough to get here. Late to the party as usual.”

Lestrade sighed, his never ending patience pouring out of him. “I only just got the call from your brother. Assembled the team as quickly as I could.”

“How did you even know we were here?” Hope asked Lestrade.

Sherlock gave her a frown and once again answered the question that had not been directed at him.

“John and I suddenly vanish from the face of the planet for almost two days and you didn’t think Mycroft would notice?”

Hope blushed rather embarrassed that the thought had not occurred to her.

“He was in a state, let me tell you.” Lestrade told Sherlock. “The second your phone’s GPS came back online I got his call. Where the hell have you been anyways?”

“That is a story best saved for later, I’m afraid.” Sherlock told him not looking at him.

Hope followed his gaze, turning around and seeing John helping Rex off the ground and steadying him.

John looked over and said “I’m going to help him get downstairs to an ambulance.” He began to lead Rex towards the roof door.

One of the officers who was tending to the thugs looked up and called Lestrade over.

Lestrade sighed. “I want a full report from you soon, Sherlock.” He moved away from them.

Hope turned and peered over the edge of the roof, Sherlock followed her gaze.

Several people were already moving around in the alleyway below, flashlights darting across the walls and Moriarty’s body was being lifted off the ground.

“I can’t believe you let him go.” Hope whispered keeping her eyes fixed on the people below.

“I did it for John.” Sherlock said simply, also keeping his gaze fixed below.

“I know.” She nodded her head.

Together they silently turned away from the edge.

Sherlock walked slowly over to where the staff was lying and picked it up.

Hope took in the scene around her.

_I’m in Sherlock’s world._

This thought had of course occurred to her the moment she realized she wasn’t in the storage room but it wasn’t exactly a joyful realization then.

Now though, they were safe. Moriarty was dead.

_Sherlock killed him._

Hope shook her head and looked at Sherlock.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” She told him as he rejoined her, the staff in his hands. “In my world, this isn’t how it ends.”

“And how _does_ it end?” He asked.

Hope glanced back at the edge of the roof and then sighed, turning to face Sherlock again. “Moriarty shoots himself in the head and John watches you jump off the roof.”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide and then he laughed.

Hope crinkled her nose at him.

He stopped laughing.  “That wasn’t a joke?”

“No.”

“Why would I kill myself?” He looked completely bewildered.

“I’ll have to give you all the details later.” She told him. “We should head downstairs, our boys are waiting.” She turned and walked away from him.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at her as she turned away, but said nothing and followed her.

A few minutes later they walked out the front doors of the building. Police cars, ambulances, fire trucks, all were present and all were blinking red, blue, white, yellow.

Hope spotted John and Rex at the back of an ambulance, Rex had an orange blanket wrapped around his shoulders. She began to walk towards them, Sherlock still following her.

She wasn’t sure if it was because she was so fixated on Rex and John, or if it had just quite literally appeared from nowhere, but Hope and Sherlock were stopped short as a black sedan pulled up in front of them.

She barely had time to think about how this car was suddenly able to pull up with all these other vehicles in the way when the door opened.

“Not now, _Mycroft!_ ” Sherlock sneered not bothering to even look inside the car.

Hope smiled despite herself. She promptly ducked into the car, grabbing Sherlock’s sleeve and pulling him inside with her.

Sherlock grumbled as he flopped down beside Hope and shut the door.

Mycroft Holmes was sitting with his legs crossed, his umbrella propped up against his leg.

He gave Hope a long appraising stare as the car pulled away from the curb.

Hope smiled at him.

He gave her a small smile back and then turned to Sherlock.

“Don’t be rude, Sherlock. Introduce me to your lovely companion.”

Sherlock said nothing, keeping his eyes focused out the window.

Hope tried not to laugh at how childish Sherlock was being.

She held out her hand to Mycroft. “My name is Hope Matthews.” He politely took her hand and shook it. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

Sherlock snorted.

Hope and Mycroft looked at him.

“I would rather love to hear the story of where you have been, Sherlock.” He said in a sickly sweet voice, taking a long look at the staff in Sherlock’s lap. “People have been worried.”

Sherlock turned his head away from the window. “And by people you mean Mummy.” His face suddenly flashed with excitement. “Tell me, Mycroft, how angry was she with you when she found out you lost me?”

Mycroft frowned, looking a bit uncomfortable. “She was worried.”

Sherlock gave him a smile then shrugged his shoulders. “Well I’m back now. You can drop the threat level.”

Hope watched the two of them and was beside herself.

_This is better than the show._

Mycroft gave Sherlock a severe look, he was clearly agitated. “Back from _where_ exactly?”

“The whole of the British Government at your beckoning call and yet you don’t know the answer. That must be so _frustrating_ for you, brother.” Sherlock sneered and then looked back out the window.

Mycroft bristled. “You vanish for almost two days and then reappear and suddenly I have a dead criminal mastermind on my hands. Weeks and months of planning suddenly gone down the drain. I would like to know how and why all of this occurred.”

Sherlock said nothing. 

Mycroft sighed and turned back to Hope. “Perhaps you can be so kind as to enlighten me?”

She took a sideways glance at Sherlock, but he made no objection.

Hope launched into the story and Mycroft very patiently listened to all the details.

“And now the staff,” she said several minutes later, “is mine and Rex’s only way home.”

She looked over to the staff as Mycroft looked at Sherlock. “May I see it?” He asked his brother politely.

Sherlock shrugged again, but didn’t move to hand it to him.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Sherlock then reached forward and plucked it off his lap. He turned it over in his hands, studying it for a long time.

Finally he looked up at Hope and gave her a smile. “Actors you say?”

Hope nodded.

He looked back to the staff. “ _Fascinating_.”

There was a faint beeping sound and he placed the staff beside him on the seat, reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

After a moment he said “We will have to keep this staff in a safe location from now on, after sending you and this Rex home of course. And speaking of your friend, he and John have just arrived at the hospital.”

The car suddenly stopped. Hope gazed out the window and was surprised to see that they had also arrived at a hospital. Not just _a_ hospital, but St. Bart’s itself.

“I’ll be speaking with you soon, Sherlock.” Mycroft told him.

Sherlock promptly opened the door and got out.

Hope looked at Mycroft who handed her the staff. “I wish you safe travels, Miss Matthews.”

She took the staff from him. “Thank you.” She gave him another smile and stepped out of the car.

The black sedan pulled away and Sherlock joined her.

Hope gazed around. She was in London. Not just London but Sherlock’s London.

It took her only a moment to realize what she was staring at.

She was looking at the very spot where Sherlock would have jumped, and standing only feet away from where John would have been standing.

_It’s not going to happen to them now._

A thought occurred to her as Sherlock moved away from her and began walking towards the hospital. “If your future is different, how is that going to impact my world?”

“Most likely it won’t affect it at all.” He said.

“Why not?”

“There are too many universes where it _will_ happen. It’s unlikely your world will change at all because the show in and of itself is a universe. We only changed _our_ universe.” He explained as they walked into the hospital.

“Well I’m glad we did.” Hope said, nodding. “This Sherlock and this John will get a happier ending. I’m grateful for that.”

Sherlock stopped abruptly and Hope almost lost her balance from trying not to bump into him. He turned to look at her.

“Speaking of endings, let’s not tell John what you told me.”

Hope didn’t even get the chance to respond before the man in question came around one of the corners.

“Sherlock! Hope!” John said.

Hope could see an ugly bruise forming on the side of John’s cheek, his white under shirt was torn and she could see the smears on it from Rex’s blood.

“How is Rex?” Hope asked him.

“He’s fine. Few stitches, he’s good as new. Although they were a little concerned when they asked him what the date was.” He crossed his arms in front of himself, smiling at her. He looked at Sherlock. “I figured your brother would scoop you up the second he could.” He leaned forward and Hope watched as he touched Sherlock’s face and turned his head slightly, looking at the bruise across his cheekbone and his busted lip. “You ok?” He asked, concerned.

Sherlock shook him off. “Fine.” He said simply and looked down at his clothes. “I’m ready to get these horrid things off.”

John chuckled. “Soon, Sherlock, soon.” He looked back to Hope. “Come on, I’ll take you to Rex.”

John led the way down the hall, Hope and Sherlock on his heels.

They reached the door and Hope walked inside, leaving John and Sherlock alone.

Rex was sitting up in the bed, a nurse just finishing up the bandages on his head. He looked up at Hope and gave her his classic award-winning smile. “Hey you.”

She beamed at him. “Hey. How are you feeling?” She walked over to his side as the nurse picked up her things from the bed and moved away from them. She set the staff down on the bed.

“Hell of a headache.” He said with another smile and then turned to the nurse. “Thank you.”

Hope waited until the nurse had left before turning around and wrapping her arms around Rex in a tight hug.

He returned the hug and said “You ok?”

She pulled away and said “Yeah. I think so. I’m so glad you showed up when you did.”

Rex nodded. “I had come back to check on you guys and the storage room was empty with the staff just sitting on the floor. I knew something wasn’t right. Took me a little bit to figure out how to make the damn thing work, but I guess I did.”

Hope smiled at him and leaned in for another hug. “Yes you did. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He let her go and looked into her face. “John said Moriarty is dead?”

She frowned slightly. “Yeah. Sherlock let him go.”

“Wow. Why?”

“Not now, ok?” She told him. “Let’s get you out of here so that we can get home.”

He nodded his agreement.

“I’ll go see about getting you released.” Hope told him, turning away and walking over to the door.

She opened it and caught the conversation Sherlock and John were having.

“I don’t see what the issue is.” Sherlock was saying. “Moriarty has been stopped. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

John was about to respond when he spotted Hope. He looked at Sherlock and gave him a serious look. “We will talk about this later.”

“Hey guys.” Hope said, trying to sound casual. “How do we go about getting Rex out of here?”

“I’ll take care of it.” John said, walking away and down the hall.

Sherlock watched John and Hope watched Sherlock.

“You’re not going to tell him why you did it.” It wasn’t a question.

Sherlock looked at her, his shoulders a little slumped. “No.”

Hope crossed her arms. “You would rather let him think you killed Moriarty ‘because you could’ then tell him that you did it to protect him?”

Sherlock’s body went stiff and he raised himself up to his full height. “Sentiment is not really my area.”

Hope looked at him in astonishment. “You know for a genius you sure can be stupid.”

Sherlock gave her a mixed look of surprise and confusion.

Hope shook her head at him. “You asked me earlier why would you kill yourself? Good question Sherlock, what - or rather _who_ \- would make you do that?” She stared into his eyes.

Sherlock’s features softened and his body relaxed. “John.”

Hope dropped her arms to her sides. “You can’t pull this ‘sentiment is a chemical defect’”- Sherlock raised his eyebrows at this phrase - “crap with me, Sherlock Holmes. I know you far better than that. You jump because it’s the only way to save John. It’s the same reason you let Moriarty go. Either ending is because you wanted to _keep John safe_. If you can’t see how sentimental that is, you’re fooling yourself.” Sherlock looked like he wanted to say something but Hope didn’t give him the chance. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to you guys now.” She continued. “The show in my world will be very different from the future you two will now have.” She took in a breath. “However, changed future or not, I know John Watson.” She held Sherlock’s gaze. “He’s not going to let this go.” She crossed her arms in front of herself again, not letting go of Sherlock’s eyes. “Even if you refuse to admit that _you_ care, you know damn well _he does_. And if you want to make it to the Bees I suggest you start being more honest with John. He’s your _best friend_ , Sherlock. He deserves to be treated as such. Even if that means you need to concede to a little bit of sentiment.”

Sherlock tensed and perked up as if to respond, but then he paused, slumped back down, the tension ebbing slightly. He frowned, sighed, and averted his eyes as a slightly annoyed smile curled at the side of his mouth. “You _would_ have to be from the minute part of the population that’s actually intelligent, wouldn’t you?” He shifted and looked back into her face, his annoyance not quite gone, but it was mixed in with approval.

Hope stood up a little straighter and gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled back but then he looked at her thoughtfully. “Did I actually kill myself?”

Hope shook her head. “No. You faked it to save John. You did a really, really good job of faking it too.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrow at her. “How did I do it?”

Hope couldn’t help but laugh. “Sherlock, every single one of your adoring fans have been asking that same question for the past two years. I have absolutely no idea how you did it.”

Sherlock’s eyes unfocused for a moment before he said “I bet it was brilliant.” His smile was big, too big.

“Yeah. Really brilliant.” Hope said sarcastically. “So brilliant John goes the next two years believing you are dead.”

Sherlock dropped his smile. “Point.”

“Good. Now let’s get me and Rex home.” She told him and turned to walk back into Rex’s room, Sherlock following behind her.

Rex smiled at them as they entered. “Hey Sherlock!” He gave Sherlock a once over. “You look like how I feel, dude.”

Sherlock laughed. “Thank you for all your help, Rex. You were invaluable.”

If Sherlock was being sarcastic, Hope couldn’t tell.

Rex nodded, wincing slightly, but still managed to smile. “You should tell _her_ that.” He looked at Hope.

Hope rolled her eyes.

“So tell me, Mr. Holmes. With all your deductive powers do you think I have a chance with this little lady?”

Hope blushed as Sherlock took in a breath to speak.

“Shut up, Sherlock.” Came John’s voice from behind them.

Hope turned to see him standing in the doorway holding onto some papers.

“Discharge papers.” John said simply. “Rex can get out of here.”

Hope gave John a smile that hopefully conveyed her thanks in more ways than one then looked at Sherlock and glared daggers at him.

Sherlock gave her a ‘what?’ expression.

Hope turned to face Rex. “Ready to go?”

Rex nodded and she walked over to help him from the bed.

“Hey,” His face turned quizzical. “Where’s your necklace?” He asked, slipping his hand around Hope’s waist and gripping it a little tighter then was really necessary.

Hope didn’t mind it. “Turns out my necklace was actually the power source for the staff. That’s why they turned up in my living room. Apparently the staff transports you to the power source, even if it’s separated from the staff.”

Rex raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Hope smiled at him and nodded. “I wonder if anyone in my family ever knew that.”

“The rubies were probably pulled out of the staff a long time ago.” Sherlock chimed in.

“Yeah.” Rex agreed. “Artifacts like that get passed around and around for hundreds of years all the time, until they end up in a private collection or are bought by the museum or just lost forever.” He turned and picked the staff up from the bed.

“Well I guess I’m just lucky.” She smiled at Rex and they began to move towards to door.

“So where are we departing from?” Rex asked as John and Sherlock began to follow them out.

“Baker Street.” Sherlock said simply.

Hope stopped dead, turned around and looked at Sherlock. “Really? Seriously?”

Sherlock smiled broadly at her. “I thought you might like to see it before you leave.”

It took Hope everything she had not to squeal out loud. “Yes! Yes I would!”

**

Sometime later they were pulling up to 221b Baker Street. Hope was practically vibrating with anticipation.

She was already opening the door of the cab before it had even stopped moving. She jumped out running up to the door. “Oh I can’t believe this! Hurry up!” She was bouncing back and forth on her heels and toes impatiently as Rex, Sherlock and John got out of the cab.

Rex looked up at the numbers on the door. “You know, those shouldn’t actually be there.”

Sherlock and John looked at him.

Hope just smiled.

“This is the door to _all_ the apartments. The numbers should actually be on the door at the top of the stairs.” Rex explained to them.

Sherlock and John looked at each other with mirrored expressions of ‘huh, never thought about it before’ before shrugging it off and letting them all inside.

No sooner had the door closed when a “Woohoo!” came from just beyond the stairs.

“Sherlock is that you?” Mrs. Hudson popped her head out of her front door. She spotted the four of them. “Oh! You brought company. How nice.” She smiled at them all.

“Hello Mrs. Hudson. Sorry for the late hour return.” John said apologetically. “I hope we didn’t wake you.”

“Not at all.” She waved her hand at him. “And who are these young visitors?” She asked.

Sherlock stepped forward. “This is Hope and Rex, friends of ours.”

Hope beamed at her. “Hello Mrs. Hudson.”

“Hello, dear.” She smiled back, and then stifled a yawn. “Oh goodness, forgive me.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Hudson, go ahead and get some rest. We won’t be disturbing you.” Sherlock said giving her a fond smile.

“Alright, if you need me you know where to find me. Good night.” She moved back inside and shut her door with a click.

They all filed up the stairs and entered 221b.

Sherlock immediately said “Excuse me.” and exited through the kitchen towards his bedroom.

Hope was awe struck.

_I’m standing inside 221b!_

She was giving her neck a bit of whip lash from turning it this way and that, taking it all in.

John laughed. “I have never seen anyone look at our home in such wonderment.”

“This is amazing!” Hope squealed. “I wish I had a camera!” She moved further into the flat and stood behind John’s chair. She placed her hands on the back and looked at John. “May I?”

He chuckled and nodded at her.

She promptly moved around the chair and flopped down in it. She looked over to Rex and John who were smiling at her.

John moved out of the way and motioned towards the couch for Rex to have a seat. Rex sat down with the staff in his lap and John sat down next to him.

Sherlock came back into the living room properly dressed in one of his carefully tailored suits. “Ah. That’s much better.” He looked down at Hope sitting in John’s chair and smiled. “Comfy?”

“Oh yes!” She looked away from him and over to the window behind Sherlock’s chair where Sherlock’s violin stand was. “Oh!” She started. “Any chance I can get you to play a tune for me?”

Sherlock looked hesitant. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, Sherlock, play something for her.” John said from over on the sofa.

“Yeah, that would be awesome!” Rex chimed in.

“Please?” Hope pouted her lip.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said “Fine.” But Hope caught a smile curling at the edge of his lips before he gracefully moved to the window and picked up his violin and bow.

At the first note she melted into her chair.

Sherlock swayed with the movement of the music, silhouetted against the window.

 _John, you lucky, lucky bastard._ Hope thought watching Sherlock in a complete mesmerized state.

Hope wondered what she did in a past life to deserve such a dream like this. She was in London sitting in John’s chair at 221b Baker Street watching Sherlock _seductively_ play his violin.

_Please don’t let me wake up._

All too soon Sherlock’s elegant fingers coxed the final stunning note from the violin.

Hope stood and clapped emphatically. “That was beautiful!”

Sherlock took a small bow as Rex and John joined in on the clapping. “Thank you.”

Hope caught Rex’s eye and he gave her a sad smile. “Hope, we really should get going.”

Hope sighed. She didn’t want to go, she wanted to stay here forever, but she knew she couldn’t. “I know. I know.” She turned towards Sherlock who put out his hand for her to shake. She eyed his hand and then looked up at him and gave him a ‘I don’t think so’ look holding her arms out for a hug.

Sherlock hesitated then sighed, closing the gap and giving Hope a quick hug.

“You have no idea how amazing this has been.” Hope told him.

“Even the almost dying part?” Sherlock asked her raising his eye brows.

Hope laughed. “Well that wasn’t exactly my favorite part of this trip, but you know.” She gave him a broad smile before turning to John who was also smiling.

It suddenly hit her that this John would not have to go through the pain of losing Sherlock and without thinking she quickly moved forward and wrapped her arms around John tight. He was a little surprised but returned her hug enthusiastically.

“Take care, Hope.” He told her.

“I will. And you be sure to take care of this crazy man.” She said smiling, pointing to Sherlock.

John looked into Sherlock’s face and they held each other’s gaze. “Always.” John said.

Rex moved to Hope’s side wrapping his arm around her waist, the staff clutched in his hands.

“Tell Mycroft not to bury the staff too deep. It would be nice to visit again one day.” Hope told Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded. “Goodbye, Hope Matthews.”

She took one last look at Sherlock and John as Rex tapped the staff on the ground.

The room filled with white light and before she could even blink she and Rex were standing once again in the storage room of the museum.

Their staff was lying on the floor and Rex leaned down to pick it up. He turned and smiled at her. “Hell of a day, huh?”

“One I’ll never forget.” She reached forward as he held the staff and she pried the ruby eyes out of the snake.

“So what now?” Rex asked her.

“What would you like to do?”

“I’d like to kiss you.” Rex told her, staring into her eyes.

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea.” She said smiling.

He took her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers as he dipped her backwards.

It was the first of many more kisses to come.

The End


End file.
